


Playing Pool and Wild Darts

by Menya_Savut



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Bullying, Crossdressing, Friendship, Gen, High School, Light Angst, Platonic Kissing, non-heteronormativity, physical affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menya_Savut/pseuds/Menya_Savut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Farkle gets bullied. Everyone manages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Pool and Wild Darts

Billy shrugged open the classroom door, nearly dropping his books in the process. He cursed and caught them haphazardly. Why did he have to actually try to be a good student and ask Mrs. Dell a question after class? Now his good-student-ness would make him a bad student for his next class; he’d be late. He knew that Mr. Matthews wouldn’t mind, but he’d be the center of attention if he walked in after the bell. He tried to weave through the students, but exiting class this late meant that passing period was in full swing and Billy had to cling to the walls and wiggle to reach his locker. He quickly spun the combination and wrenched the door open.

_Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep._

Billy cursed again and pulled out his phone. His History textbook finally managed to slip out of his grasp, but he only groaned and kicked it near the wall.

He looked down at the screen. Three texts from Lucas. They all said the same thing.

_find farkle_

Billy texted back a quick ‘ok’ and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He scooped up the textbook, crammed everything into his locker, and promptly turned around. If he was going to look for Farkle, he’d check where none of their other friends would look, which was coincidentally also the most dangerous place at JQA High for a freshman. The old gym.

No one ever went to the old gym because a grand total of one class was ever held there, and that class was racquetball. No one ever took racquetball, because it meant marching to the back of the school building and spending an hour in the old gym. The circular reasoning led to one conclusion: if you’re going to harass someone, do it near the old gym. Billy hoped he wasn’t right, but he unfortunately knew about these things.

And there was Farkle with a handful of sophomores Billy recognized were from the lacrosse team. From the end of the hall, the scene looked like just a group of students having a conversation, but as Billy got closer, he realized Farkle was saying nothing.

“-a little kid like you. Did you get lost trying to find the elementary school?”

“You know they don’t let anyone under five feet into high school.”

“We’re doing you a favor, really. If no one ever told you how _wrong_ your shortness was, you might think it’s allowed or something.”

They were forming a loose circle, cornering Farkle. One of them reached out to roughly ruffle Farkle’s hair in mock fondness. Farkle jerked.

Billy groaned internally and walked straight toward the group.

“Oh, hey Billy,” one of the guys said. Lawrence, or Larson, or something. Billy didn’t care. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Billy said evenly. He shouldered through the circle surrounding Farkle and picked him up. Farkle shrunk back for a moment, but didn’t resist Billy’s lifting him and resting him on his hip.  

“You know,” Billy said, still keeping his voice even, “I like that he’s little. People underestimate him, and then he surprises everyone.”

He wrapped his arms more securely around Farkle and turned purposefully away.

 

The halls were empty at this point; passing period had ended a good five minutes ago. Only his own footsteps reached Billy’s ears. They were louder than he realized, _thunk, thunk, thunk._

“You can put me down,” Farkle said softly.  

“I’d rather not,” Billy said.

Farkle fell silent again after that. Maybe Billy shouldn’t have been acting so weird about this, but if he was going to walk into Mr. Matthews’s class and have everyone’s attention on him, then they’d better realize that something bad had happened.

He bodily pushed the classroom door open. Just as he expected, Mr. Matthews stopped mid-sentence and the whole class swiveled to face him. He regarded them coolly, then walked to where Lucas was sitting.

Lucas quickly slid his seat back, and Billy deposited Farkle on his lap.

“Farkle,” Lucas said. He held Farkle’s face in his hands and tutted like a mother hen. “Where were you?”

Farkle said nothing. Lucas started running his hands through Farkle’s tousled hair, brushing it back into place. He vaguely heard Billy speaking lowly with Mr. Matthews; something about lacrosse, but he wasn’t paying attention.

Lucas straightened the last strand, kissed Farkle’s cheek, and said, “Can you text Riley and Maya? They’re still out looking for you.”

“Already did,” said Billy. “And I’m sorry I don’t have my History textbook, Mr. Matthews. I kind of left it in my locker after I got the text from Lucas.”

“That’s fine,” said Mr. Matthews. “We almost always end up talking about something other than history anyway. For instance, right now,” he added darkly.

“What happened, Farkle?” Lucas said.

But Farkle only snaked his arms around Lucas’s neck and tucked his head down. Lucas sighed and hugged him.

“I’ll tell you after class,” said Billy. “You guys too,” he nodded at Riley and Maya, who were just then walking through the door.

“Well, I suppose we should get back to the lesson,” Mr. Matthews said, and turned away from the questioning glances of his daughter and her friend.

 

The time immediately after the last bell was spent in Mr. Matthews’s classroom. Billy told an irate Lucas, Riley, and Maya what had happened. Farkle sat on Mr. Matthews’s desk, legs swinging. Everyone else continued to gripe about the situation, but finally Maya ordered them all home and Farkle walked back with a brooding Riley.

The next day, Riley informed them that Mr. Matthews had talked to the principal and that Billy had helped them find the miscreants. All was taken care of.

So when Farkle was walking down the hall with Lucas a couple weeks later, he wasn’t quite fast enough to register the group of guys walking toward him, eyes blank with danger, or the flash of a razor blade glittering inches from his eye, or Lucas stiffening and starting forward, or Billy materializing out of nowhere, saying to Lucas, “Go to Farkle! I’ll deal with this! Go!” or Lucas turning back with difficulty, or Lucas herding him away, or Maya rushing past them, golden curls flying, or the door of Janitor Harley’s closet swinging open, or Lucas lifting him to sit on a table. He only felt the sting of the cut on his cheek and forehead when Lucas touched them; he flinched and Lucas’s eyes darkened. He watched Lucas dig through the cupboards, finally finding a first aid kit. He saw Lucas’s hands shake.

He couldn’t help wincing as Lucas wiped his cuts clean. Lucas stilled, nearly growled, and sighed.

“They’re not deep. The blade only grazed you. Head wounds just bleed a lot.”

Lucas cut sections of gauze; he brought Farkle’s hands to press against the cuts with them. There was a knock at the door; Lucas crossed the room and let Riley in. She told them she’d gotten Mr. Matthews and went to find them afterwards. They stood in silence until Lucas pulled Farkle’s hands away. He bandaged the cuts.

Farkle let Lucas arch over him. He heard Lucas murmur into his hair.

“You keep me up at night.”

Farkle could only press his face into the softness of Lucas’s shirt.

 

As opposed to the last incident, no one said anything about what happened. Lucas simply requested a movie night. Maya, blouse untucked and hair in disarray, readily agreed, and there was no argument after that. Riley put her father in charge of contacting all the parents, and the four traveled to Lucas’s house together. The subway was crowded. Riley and Lucas towered over Farkle. Maya grasped a grab handle and glared at everyone without discrimination.

They sat around Lucas’s kitchen table, doing homework while Mrs. Friar hovered about, asking if she could help in any way. She said nothing about Farkle’s bandages. Dinner was macaroni casserole, and afterwards they assembled in the living room, Maya in the armchair, leaving the other three the large couch. Mrs. Friar put on _The Avengers_ and turned all the lights off.

Maya fell asleep halfway through the movie. Her soft snores filled the room. Farkle couldn’t keep his eyes open; Lucas kept stroking his hair. He yawned, and Riley pulled his legs into her lap. He fell asleep with his cheek on Lucas’s knee, Lucas stroking his back and Riley massaging his legs.

 

“ _Suspension!”_

The principal’s roar reached them from behind the closed door of his office. Everyone was there: Farkle, Lucas, Billy, Maya, and Riley in the waiting area, even Mr. Matthews and Mr. Minkus, both unusually somber and agreeable. And, of course, the three boys who attacked Farkle, the recipients of the principal’s wrath. A few moments earlier, the principal just finished questioning each of the children individually about the situation. Lucas sat next to Farkle, Billy and Maya across from them. There were no other chairs, and Riley chose to stand with the adults. She leaned her head on her father’s shoulder.

It did not escape Lucas’s notice that those three boys had just earned the same fate as he had not two years ago.

He wanted to cry. Instead, he squeezed Farkle’s hand.

Farkle squeezed back.

 

“Hey, Zay.”

“Hey, Farkle.”

Farkle moved to sit on the steps of JQA High beside Zay. Zay slung an arm around him.

“Have you seen Lucas?” Farkle asked.

“Yeah,” said Zay. “I think he’s really worried about you.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s in drag.”

Farkle rubbed absently at the fading scars on his face. Zay pushed his hands away.

“Billy was pretty ticked off,” Zay continued. “He knows you guys usually do that kind of thing together.”

“I don’t mind – it’s just surprising,” Farkle said. “I should probably go find him.”

“He was mucking around in Mr. Matthews’s classroom last I saw him.”

“Thanks.”

They clasped hands and bumped opposite shoulders; Farkle stood up and continued into the building.

Although the first class didn’t start for another twenty minutes, the halls were already teeming with students. Farkle noticed a few stares in his direction, but to most of the school his little incident was old news.

He checked in the history classroom, but Lucas wasn’t there anymore. Farkle succeeded in finding him near his locker.

Lucas wasn’t in full drag; the clothes he wore weren’t overly feminine – sweats, a hoodie with the sleeves pushed up over a t-shirt – and on any other day they wouldn’t draw any additional attention. What was striking was the long wig of dark brown hair, ironed straight with bangs cutting across his forehead. The makeup was light; it would have looked not unusual on any girl. Indeed, it looked not unusual on Lucas.

“Oh hey, Farkle,” Lucas said when he noticed the other boy approach. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you – I woke up at five this morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep and it just happened-”

“It’s fine,” said Farkle. “Really.”

“Well, I sort of panicked – I texted Riley – she said she’d swing by your house and get-”

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble-”

“Lucas!” That was Riley. She ran toward them, hair thrown up in a messy bun. “And Farkle – good. I just caught your mom as she was leaving the house – here’s everything.”

“Thank you so much, Riley,” said Farkle, taking the offered things.

“Yeah, thanks,” said Lucas.

“It’s not a problem at all,” Riley said. “I’ve gotta brush my hair! I’ll see you in class.”

She kissed Farkle’s head and Lucas’s shoulder (what she could reach without standing on her tiptoes) and rushed off. ~~~~

Farkle looked down at his hands. He held a large cloth pouch holding his own wig and a makeup bag.

“Come on, let’s go to the locker rooms,” said Lucas. “I mean – if you want to-”

“I do want to,” said Farkle.

They swung by the boys’ locker rooms. In the bathroom, Farkle passed the makeup bag to Lucas and started working on slipping all of his hair into his wig cap.

Lucas dug through the contents of the bag and pulled out Farkle’s foundation. He tossed it to Farkle, who started applying it. A senior walked in, sweaty from morning practice; he grabbed a towel and left.

Lucas glanced at Farkle’s outfit. He pulled out a shade of blush and regarded it critically.

“I know I’m not wearing the right colors,” Farkle said apologetically, referring to his maroon sweater and khaki skinnies. “I should’ve worn something lighter.”

“I kind of jumped you with this; it’s not your fault,” said Lucas. “Look at me.”

Farkle obliged and Lucas quickly applied everything: eye shadow, mascara, lip gloss. He reached for the foundation and dabbed at Farkle’s scars.

“I can’t quite conceal them,” said Lucas.

“That’s fine,” said Farkle. “They’re almost faded anyway.”

Lucas frowned, but he stopped. Farkle pulled out his wig – shoulder-length, slightly wavy, and his natural hair color, as opposed to Lucas’s – and slipped it on. Lucas dug the hairbrush out of the makeup bag, and Farkle gave the wig a few swipes.

“We have about two minutes ‘til Econ,” Lucas said as Farkle grabbed up everything. “Mr. Daber won’t be amused.”

“Mr. Daber is never amused. Excuse me,” Farkle said to a muddy batter he nearly bumped into. “His class is a hallway away; we’ll make it.”

They did just make it, and Mr. Daber couldn’t complain.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, the title is a lyric from the song ‘Video Games’ by Lana Del Rey. The song doesn’t quite match this story, but the melancholy feel is kind of the same.  
> This story. I’m not sure what happened.  
> This story was meant to be just a little fluffy thing about Farkle getting bullied and how it’s all better afterwards, but then it turned into kind of a character study of Billy at one point, and then sort of the group dynamic when they’re faced with drama, and then things took a turn. Oh, did they take a turn.  
> Here’s the thing. I wrote Lucas as a little bit more open and affectionate in the beginning, right? I did this because this story is kind of connected to ‘Squeak and Freak’, although not explicitly or directly or anything. So I took the Lucas that was the product of ‘Squeak and Freak’ and put him here. That Lucas wasn’t a crossdresser. This Lucas is.  
> Why? I’ll try to explain. Within this story’s universe, I guess you could call it, a lack of heteronormativity is not strange. In that sense, this story’s universe is a little saccharine, which is ironic, considering the violence and all. But anyway. So when Lucas chooses to crossdress, he’s not doing anything considered too out of the ordinary. It’s not that everyone is not heteronormative, it’s just that if someone isn’t heteronormative, it’s not odd. So Lucas’s crossdressing doesn’t stand for something big and important, usually. It’s implied in the story (I hope) that sometimes he and Farkle come to school in drag just because they want to, and it’s a fun thing for them to do together. But Lucas decided to come to school in drag this particular time because he was feeling angst about Farkle being attacked and he just wanted to express himself to kind of de-stress, and the way he does that is by crossdressing.  
> Great. Does your suspension of disbelief still hold? Let’s continue. Lucas doesn’t consider physical appearance to be a gendered thing. He considers himself heterosexual and male, so he’s not queer. He’s just not heteronormative. But to Farkle, physical appearance is a gendered thing. To him, being in drag is like putting on a costume to make himself look female. Farkle considers himself male like Lucas, so when he looks female he considers it pretending, but when Lucas crossdresses, it’s part of his genuine personality, but it’s not female. Does that make sense? Ugh.  
> Last note – I feel like this story fluctuates a lot in terms of tone, and I’m not sure how to work with that. I’ll just concede to it for now. Also the abrupt ending.


End file.
